A Phoenix Tail
by Wandersoul
Summary: Contains DH spoilers! Peace has descended on the Wizarding world, and a young boy has grown up hearing exciting stories about Hogwarts. Now it's his turn...but the more he learns, the more he wonders if he's heard the whole tale.
1. Chapter 1: Hogwarts Again

**Chapter 1: Hogwarts Again**

It was precisely eleven o'clock in the morning on September the first, and the corridor was suddenly quite empty.

Albus Severus Potter looked around him in some consternation, as the floor beneath him gave a shudder and the Hogwarts Express set into sudden motion. The entire morning had been, as the year before, a flurry of bustle and excitement; packing, racing around finding this and that, running through to the platform, hugging his parents goodbye, following his relatives onto the train…

But now said relatives had disappeared. James had raced off as soon as he'd spotted some friends, leaving his little brother behind without a thought. Victoire, now looking down from the lofty position of sixth-year, had huddled up with some of _her_ friends, giggling about how _Teddy Lupin_ had given her a kiss goodbye; her little cousin Rose, a fellow first-year, had followed after, and Al had no desire whatsoever to follow a gaggle of girls to…wherever they were supposed to go.

His new owl gave a disgruntled hoot, and Albus jumped. He noticed that the students in the nearest compartment were staring - whatever Uncle Ron had said, it was definitely not the adults' fault, they were gone now - and tugged at his trunk nervously, deciding he'd better look for a compartment.

It was about ten minutes before a panting Albus found himself at the last compartment, and he peered into it through the window nervously. Most of the other compartments had been completely full, although - oddly enough - almost every time he opened a door someone ended up on the floor with others making it obvious the seat was supposed to be empty. Or, on one occasion, a rather nasty-looking group spread themselves out as far as possible and made it quite clear he wasn't welcome. Al supposed he could have taken any of the seats, but he didn't really want to be stared at his first day…

Luckily enough, however, this particular compartment seemed to be mostly empty. Anxiously clutching his trunk, Al slid the door open.

"Hey—is it all right if I, um, sit in here?"

The two girls that occupied the little room looked up. One was rather thin, with straggling muddy brown hair and rather intimidating oval glasses, and studied him from over a schoolbook. After a moment, she shrugged, said, "All right, then," and returned to her book. The other one just shrugged; she was short and a bit heavyset, with short blond pigtails.

Albus dragged his trunk in and set about trying to put it above the seats. Unfortunately, this was a bit of a problem, as in his time dragging it he'd come to realize it was at least as heavy as he was. Several awkward moments passed in which he failed to shove it upwards, the pigtailed girl watched nervously, and the bookish one didn't seem to notice the rest of the world was still existent.

Then, at last, came there words he was hoping for.

"Here, help me with mine and I'll help you with yours." Grinning with relief, Al turned - to find himself face-to-face with someone that had been quite loudly pointed out by his uncle.

Scorpius Malfoy was standing a spare few feet away, lugging a heavy trunk-and-owl of his own, and now pushed white-blond hair out of his face with an air of haughty irritation. Al opened and closed his mouth, recalling everything Uncle Ron had said that his parents had ever objected to his hearing, then managed to find his voice.

"Oh—uh—sure. We can, uh—you take an end and I'll—"

Scorpius raised an eyebrow and Al shut up; together the two boys managed to get their trunks overhead, and sat down. The pigtailed girl was still staring at them.

"So—um—are you first-years too?" Al asked, a little feebly.

"No." The voice issued from behind the book, and, carefully marking her page, the girl with her hair down set it aside. She crossed her arms, looking at the pair of them intently, then tossed her hair. "I'm a second-year, but the rest are first. You're Albus Potter, correct? And you, the blonde one, are a Malfoy - I've _never_ seen anyone else with hair like that - and you…" She trailed off, looking at the girl next to her. "Not sure who you are, but you must be a first-year, you're too small to be older than me."

"Helen Dursley," the pigtailed girl answered, clearly confused. Al was disconcerted, himself - he hadn't really thought _anyone_ would know his name, his relatives excepted.

"Uh…" he said tentatively. "How do you…"

"You look just like your father," the girl answered simply, as if that answered everything. "Saw you two on the platform. Hmm. Dursley, Dursley…" She turned back to Helen. "It rings a bell. Do you have a father in the Ministry, by chance? Ah…Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?"

Helen blinked, then shook her head. "My parents aren't wizards. My father makes drills."

"Oh. Hmn. I _do_ know the name from somewhere." The girl shrugged and shook her head, then moved on. "What about you, blondie? What's your name?"

The Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Scorpius," he muttered, a little resentfully. "Scorpius Malfoy."

"Don't like being called 'blondie', do you?" the girl asked with amusement. "Lovely, Scorpius Malfoy, pleased to meet you. My, the little outcast corner's full this year, isn't it?"

"The what?" Despite his dislike of the second-year's pointed words, Al was intrigued.

The girl shrugged and picked up her book. "The outcast corner. Obviously you don't know each other, and obviously you couldn't find someone else to sit with, so you're outcasts. Though why a _Potter_ boy can't find a seat…" She trailed off, reading again.

"So who are you?" Al asked aggressively, frustrated by her superior attitude.

"Nicole Ashford at your service. My friends call me Nikki, or, that is…" a delicate pause, "anyone who would call me by my first name does. Ravenclaw second-year, three-quarters wizard like _you_," at Al, "but my surname is from my Muggle grandfather, not my pureblood strains. I hope to become a historian someday, have interrupted Professor Binns more than anyone else in the century, and unlike most of the wizarding world consider cats to be _quite_ as good as owls." With that she opened a wicker basket, setting loose a chocolate tabby cat, and returned to her book.

"Leave Maylin alone, please."

"How does she know I'm three-quarters wizard?" Albus asked the air. Scorpius hid a snigger, and Helen grinned at him shyly. With a start Al noticed her eyes were much like his own: a piercing, brilliant green.

"Well, you're the son of Harry Potter, aren't you?" the second-year responded without looking up. "He's a half-blood, and he married a pure-blood."

"How do you know—"

"Also," she went on slyly, "you live in Godric's Hollow, in a house charmed to keep reporters away, have an older brother and a younger sister - give James my thanks, by the way, he was the one who lost Gryffindor all those points last year - and more cousins than _I_ can count, are friends with a half-werewolf, and at home have a pet cat named Linda."

There was a brief silence in which Al became aware he was gaping. After a moment he demanded, "What, do you know more about me than I do?"

The formidable glasses emerged from the top of the book.

"Yes," answered Nikki smugly, "from the look on your face, I expect I do."

The rest of the train ride was more or less uneventful. Following tradition, Albus, Scorpius and Helen pooled their money to get a minor mountain of sweets when the trolley came by (Nikki didn't notice or didn't care), and spent a fairly cheerful afternoon introducing themselves. Al and Scorpius eagerly filled in Helen on all the details and passed-down stories of Hogwarts, though they differed on the point of "best house" (Nikki continued to read), then began eagerly speculating about what would happen when they got there (Nikki gave no advice, and had by this point finished her first book and moved on to a second).

Evening came, and Albus pulled on his wizard's robes. They felt awkward on him; perfectly fitted though they were, and wizard-born though he was, he had always worn Muggle clothing around the house, and to tell the truth this was the first normal occasion he was wearing robes of any sort. As he finished changing, lanterns flickered to life up and down the train; night was falling, and it was almost time to go.

The four disembarked with eagerness; with a vague wave in the opposite direction, Nikki informed the first-years that they "went that way", and drifted off to a series of carriages (which, Al noted with relief, were pulled by something completely and utterly invisible). She hadn't put her book away. Jostled by the crowd, Albus momentarily lost sight of his newfound friends and panicked; he caught sight of his older brother, and called out, but James didn't seem to notice; he saw Victoire again, gently pushing an anxious Rose in the direction Nikki had indicated, and with relief followed his cousins toward the edge of a large lake.

"Rose!" he called, and she looked his way, flashing a nervous smile. He hurried over through the crowd in her direction.

"Listen, d'you have any clue where we—"

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

Rose grinned. "Well, there's Hagrid," she answered cheerfully, pointing. "Your dad said we go on the boats, right? Come with me?"

"No more'n four to a boat!" the call went on. "Down the path that way, on the lake!"

Al nodded, and the two clambered into one of the boats, waving at the large man currently propelling a few stragglers in their direction. Albus gave a start as he recognized two.

"Scorpius! Helen!" he shouted. "Over here, we've got room!"

The other two first-years looked to see who was calling, spotted him, and darted through the fragments of the crowd, landing in the boat just as Hagrid climbed into his own and shouted, "Right then, everyone in? Hands, feet an' pets in their boats? Good—FORWARD!"

As the gamekeeper went on to explain that it was a misty night, and that shape up ahead was actually the castle, Albus ducked his head and began to whisper with his friends.

"Scorpius, Helen—my cousin Rose Weasley. Rose, this is Scorpius Malfoy and Helen Dursley—I met them on the train."

Rose was staring openly at Scorpius. He stared right back with something between amusement and irritation.

"You're a Weasley, then?" he said. "My dad was telling me all about you."

Rose blushed and looked away. Al volunteered helpfully, "Uncle Ron - her dad was doing the same."

Helen was watching with undisguised interest, and all three first-years sat a moment awkwardly. But then Scorpius grinned.

"Said your dad wasn't worth much, but _his_ mum's a Weasley and she can kill someone with that Bat-Bogey Hex of hers. And," thoughtfully, "that your mum's all right, for a Mudblood. Means a lot coming from him."

Another brief silence, then Rose smiled too. "Mine said to beat you in every test, and not to get too friendly with you, but Mum thinks it's all right."

Albus snickered, but Scorpius held out a hand and Rose shook it. "What do you say we forget everything they've ever told us?"

"Everything except the secret passage to Hogsmeade."

"Works for me."

Al grinned covertly at Helen, but unfortunately the young witch seemed to be at a complete loss. Leaning over, he whispered, "Scorpius's dad was mine and Rose's dads archenemy, practically, from what everyone says." He sniggered. "Can't wait to see—"

But then, quite suddenly, the boat made a rough grinding noise as it fetched up against dry land. All four first-years jumped, looked up, realized they had missed their first view of Hogwarts, and vowed to pay more attention from then on (a vow which, of course, would be broken at latest by their first History of Magic lesson). They seemed to be directly underneath the castle - looking backwards, they could see a small bit of dark sky through a tunnel - and were clearly supposed to be heading for a door that _must_ be an entrance to Hogwarts itself. Albus swallowed, and in an instant all his misgivings from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters returned.

Fortunately, he didn't have long to contemplate. Hagrid strode up to the door and gave it three solid knocks - Rose gave an inadvertent, anxious squeak and clutched Al's arm, Scorpius shifted and lifted his head uneasily, and Helen flinched - and it opened to reveal another familiar face.

"Very good, Hagrid, I'll take them from here! Welcome, first years—" Rose brightened hopefully as Neville Longbottom's smile flashed in their direction "—follow me, this is the entrance hall, here we go…"

Albus and his fellow forty-some first years crowded into a small chamber off to one side of the entrance hall, allowed only a brief glimpse of the inside of the castle before being hustled aside, and they clustered together, whispering anxiously. Al could hear the other three speculating softly behind him, but his throat was too dry for him to speak and in any case he wasn't too sure he could force the words out around his heart, which seemed to have lodged itself halfway up his throat.

Neville—Professor Longbottom waited for them to file in, followed after, and closed the door firmly behind himself, beaming at them. There was something immensely reassuring about a friendly professor at the moment, accident-prone though Al knew the Herbology teacher was. It was certainly comforting to know the man in front of them had undergone whatever trial they were about to face some twenty-something years ago, on the very same day his father had.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, all of you!" Helen shifted at the name of the school, and Albus glanced to the side to see her face shining with excitement. "Right about now, your fellow students are filing into the Great Hall for the start-of-term banquet…but before you all go out there, there's a few things we need to cover."

The foursome glanced at each other, eager but anxious. Rose was chewing her lip.

"Before you can eat—I'm sure you're all very hungry, the trolley never did seem to have enough, did it?" —a few students tittered nervously— "—you have to be Sorted into houses. While you're here at Hogwarts, your house is your family. You eat and sleep with your house, have a house common room and dormitories; everything you do earns or loses your house points. Keep that in mind, please, rule-breakers-to-be!

"There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each one has their own story, their own founder, and their own _excellent_ wizards to claim; I'll leave that bit out, though, as it's mostly covered during the Sorting." Everyone exchanged glances, and Professor Longbottom smiled.

"Now, then. I'm going to go see how long it'll be before you kids can come out and get this over with. I'll be back when it's time to Sort!"

He bustled out, closing the door behind him, and at once Scorpius bolted for it.

"It's locked," a black-haired girl nearby said, disappointed, and with a sigh the Malfoy boy stepped back over to them.

"Worth a try," he shrugged at the others' incredulous looks.

"What did you plan on doing." demanded Rose, "sneaking out of the castle? I thought you _wanted_ to come to Hogwarts!"

Scorpius grinned.

"'Course I want to come. Don't _you_ want to see what the Sorting thing is? Mum and Dad wouldn't tell."

"Not too sure I do, actually," Helen answered squeakily, but Albus grinned and gave his friend the thumbs-up. A group of about half the girls present burst into giggles and rapid discussion of _what _the Sorting could be, words which were echoed on all sides by the children around them.

"—heard something about fighting a _troll_, what if—"

"—pull a rabbit out of a hat? I mean, it sounds stupid but—"

"—if we had to read our books already?—"

"AWWW!"

About half the students leapt several feet into the air; Helen actually gave a small scream and ducked behind Scorpius (which didn't work too well, as Scorpius was rather thin and she was definitely _not.)_ A strange man was floating in midair, carrying a number of chalkboard erasers.

"Wee ickle firsties!" cackled the stranger - "_poltergeist,_" Rose whispered nervously - as he lobbed an eraser in a tall boy's direction. The boy cursed and ducked, making to grab the poltergeist, but the little man just floated higher in the air.

"Aww, firstie's got a temper!" he mocked. "So tell me, are the wittle firsties _scaaaared?_ Aww, but of course they're scared—" he cackled and chucked several erasers down into the huddle; Albus ducked aside as he was nearly showered with white dust, "—they don't even know what they're doing here! Did I hear one of you say you had to fight a _troll_?"

Several students giggled, and he threw another eraser down. Halfheartedly, Scorpius shouted, "Somebody throw something at him!" but the poltergeist simply swerved higher out of reach. It seemed as if all of the first-years would arrive in the Great Hall covered with chalk dust, but then—

"May I borrow your gum, please, Miss Davies?"

Confused, Albus turned to see Professor Longbottom standing next to the dark-haired girl he had noticed earlier. The poltergeist heard, and blew another raspberry, but Professor Longbottom just smiled and pointed his wand at the poltergeist.

"_Waddiwasi!_"

Doubtless Miss Davies would have swallowed her gum was she still in possession of it, because it had just flown out of her mouth and into the poltergeist's nose.

The little man made an odd snorting noise, cursed, and zoomed out of the room, flashing a rude gesture at Longbottom that made several of the girls titter. Most of the students were staring at their professor with openmouthed awe.

"And that," said Professor Longbottom contentedly, stowing his wand in a pocket, "is what you get if you listen to your teachers when they're _not_ teaching. Learned that little trick from my third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—used it on Peeves ever since. Come on, then, brush off your robes and follow me, Sorting's about to begin!"

The students filed into a line and trooped out; this time Albus made sure to stick with someone he knew for nerves' sake and found himself behind Scorpius and in front of a curly-haired boy he didn't recognize. His heart was threatening to burst out somewhere between his chest and his mouth at any moment.

The students found themselves standing in the Great Hall, easily recognizable as Al's father had described it and just as fabulous. Five tables of students and staff were standing, staring at them; Al found himself reddening and glanced up at the ceiling—or rather, the night sky. Disconcerted, he looked instead at the floor, which was ordinary stone, then gave a little jump as Professor Longbottom appeared in front of them, carrying a stool and a very old, _very_ dirty-looking hat. It was patched and frayed and oddly scorched, and in fact had a few small holes burned into it and patched up again. Thoroughly confused, Albus stared at it.

Then a rip near the brim opened and it—of all things!—began to _sing_.

In future years Al would never quite remember what it sang _(because the current author is not at all good at making poems, songs, or anything else of the sort)_, but he found himself gaping at the end. Something about the four Houses, and how he was supposed to try it on…

_Dad mentioned a Sorting Hat_, he remembered suddenly, and with a rush of humiliation recalled their entire conversation at King's Cross. _Why_ couldn't he have remembered it sooner, when the kid behind him was going on about the troll? And as for putting the hat _on_…

He really didn't feel very much anything at the moment, and hoped this Sorting Hat had taken a leaf out of Nikki Ashford's book and knew more about him than he'd ever thought about.

"Now," said Professor Longbottom cheerfully, now holding a roll of parchment, "come up and put the hat on when I call your name! Abercrombie, Natalie, would you do first honors?"

"Wouldn't pay gold to take her place," whispered Scorpius into Al's ear, who grimaced agreement. The girl gulped, trotted up to the stool, and tugged the hat on over her head. There was a pause.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. The table farthest left burst into applause, and Natalie Abercrombie tossed off the hat as if it was burning to race toward her new house; Albus spotted his brother, cousin and their friends clapping cheerfully. Professor Longbottom called two other names, one into Slytherin and one Hufflepuff, and then—

"Dursley, Helen!"

Helen gulped and looked around frantically. Albus caught her eyes and flashed her the thumbs-up, while Scorpius next to him gave an encouraging grin. Positively terrified, the girl scurried up to the stool and jammed on the hat.

There was a long pause. What little of Helen's face that could be seen was slowly turning red. Scorpius and Albus exchanged confused looks, and Al glanced around to see if Rose or possibly even James knew what was going on.

Then, at long last—

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Another short pause, and the rightmost table clapped. Everyone was looking at one another, and Al spotted Nikki Ashford at the Ravenclaw table, studying the Sorting Hat thoughtfully. Chewing her lip and—to Al's consternation—looking close to tears, Helen dropped the hat on the stool and walked slowly over to her new house.

"Three Galleons she wanted a different house," Scorpius whispered in Al's ear. Something clicked.

"I'd like three Galleons," he whispered back, frowning, "but you're probably right."

John Edgecombe became the first new Ravenclaw. Albus saw Nikki clapping politely, but saw with a grin that she had her book hidden underneath the house table. Several unfamiliar names were called, and then about twenty more. Albus's stomach growled, and a distant corner of him wondered how his body could continue functioning when his mind was blindly panicking and he had no desire to eat anytime soon because he would probably throw it up. Then, finally—

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

Scorpius swallowed, lifted his head higher, and walked forward with his legs stiff. Albus gave him an encouraging nod, but he couldn't be too sure his new friend had seen it. The Sorting Hat came down; there was the briefest pause, and;

"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus grinned and clapped quietly along with the Slytherin table—whatever his own opinion, Scorpius had been quite clear in his desire to join his father's old house. This hopeful thought buoyed him through a few more names, then a few more saw his spirits dropping, then Slytherin "Peakes, Reynard" had him back into his former agitated state. And then—

"Potter, Albus."

He noticed that the room had suddenly gone rather quiet, and remembered uneasily the stares on the train. James was looking around in some confusion, then shrugged and settled for staring at his little brother as well. Well, it wasn't getting any easier standing here; wiping sweaty palms on his robes, Albus strode forward, sat down, and put the hat over his head.

Suddenly he was looking blindly at dark felt, and heard a tiny voice in his ear.

"Hmm…bit nervous, are we? Not really Hufflepuff material, though…might do well in Slytherin, you know, you're really quite smart and you know how to attach yourself to the right people…"

So it _was_ smart, after all. He heard a tiny note of indignation creep into the voice as it went on.

"I'm smart, after all? Perhaps you _would_ do well in Hufflepuff after all…"

"No!" He yelped the word, and was a little worried the rest of the hall might have heard him. The Sorting Hat fell silent, and he heard amusement in the pause. More quietly, he gave an awkward mutter; "Um…could I be in Gryffindor, maybe?"

The silence stretched on. Then the Hat gave something rather like a sigh.

"Who's put out my secret, now? Everyone tells me exactly what house they want to be in this year, and if I went by exactly their suggestions poor Hufflepuff and Slytherin would be almost empty…hmm…" It seemed to be thinking. "You might do, though. Care about your friends, do you? Noble-minded like your father? All right then, GRYFFINDOR it is!"

Dimly, heart thudding with relief, Albus heard the Gryffindor table burst into applause. Frantically he wrenched the hat off and hurried out toward his new table; James pounded him on the back and he managed to find a seat near his brother. From across the hall he saw Scorpius grin at him and nodded back, wondering a little unhappily if this was the end of a newfound friendship.

"Wondered if you were coming out at all," James told him cheerfully, "took almost as long as that Dursley girl! Look, there's only six more and Rose is last."

Albus didn't really notice. He saw that there were still people sneaking him glances as "Robins, Terry" was called, and a question he'd been wanting to ask from the moment his parents disappeared burst out of him.

"James, how come people keep staring at us?"

His brother threw him a glance and shrugged. "Dunno," he answered casually, "something to do with Dad, I expect. Did the same thing to me last year, but not so much—probably because you look more like him."

"But _why_?" Al asked desperately. "What on earth did Dad do to make us famous?"

"Dunno," was the response again—James didn't really seem to care. "Never asked, did I? Probably in a textbook somewhere if it makes us big eyesores like this, else you can write him and ask. Look, Rosie's next!"

Albus forced his attention back to the Sorting Hat, which a Black boy had just evacuated and Rose was now approaching. To Al's mild surprise, she didn't look nervous anymore, but walked forward confidently with her head high (and not in the meet-the-executioner-fearlessly way Scorpius did it). Victoire down the table let out a shrill whistle in encouragement, and Rose flashed a grin at their table as she sat down and put the Hat on.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it yelled the second she had it on her head, and with pure joy on her face Rose set the hat down delicately, stalking over to her new table.

"Blimey, never knew Rosie was so—not worried," James said in something like awe. Albus shrugged.

"Dunno if she was really not worried," he answered, nodding in her direction—the bravado had been replaced with shaky relief the second Rose was out of public eye, and she now collapsed between her cousins with a huge gulp of relief.

"Thought it might like me better if I acted brave," she said to James's incredulous stare, and Victoire across from them chuckled.

"That's our cousin!"

Perhaps Helen would have been better off if she'd done it, Al reflected, and the feast began.

* * *

**A/N:** So, there you have it...my first chapter. Not planning to edit, but crit much appreciated. The title may or may not be changed, I haven't decided for sure yet. Thanks for reading...ish long. x3


	2. Chapter 2: Plot, Begin

-1**Chapter 2: Plot, Begin**

_Dear Dad,_

_Hoping this letter finds you all right, and that my owl survives the journey. Everyone already knows his name, and I'm about ready to kill James and Uncle Ron. I mean, honestly, a Snowy Owl named Pidgey! And I'll bet you all my money it was him that told everyone the name, too._

_Anyway, my first week was pretty good. The classes are insanely hard to find, but today Rosie and I actually made it to the Great Hall on time without any help, and I think I'm learning all right. Hagrid says hello and Neville sends love back. I haven't been sent to Neville, I mean Professor Longbottom's office yet but James has gone twice! I just learned it was his fault Gryffindor didn't win House Cup last year, but no one really cared because he's funny and he's turning out an amazing Chaser. Do you think I can get on Quidditch team next year?_

_I made some pretty good friends already, I guess. The Gryffindors in my year are all right. There's only three boys, can you believe it? But there's nine girls and we have the biggest house of all four. Rose spends most of her time with either me or Victoire, and I have some friends in the other houses. Don't tell Uncle Ronnie, but Scorpius Malfoy is actually awesome! He's a troublemaker, but he's way smarter than James about it, we already managed to lock Mrs. Norris in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and none the wiser for it. And there's Helen Dursley and Nikki Ashford in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, I met them on the train._

_Anyway, there was something I meant to write about. Everyone keeps staring at me when I go through the halls, and they keep dropping hints it's to do with you and because I look like you, but no one will tell me why. Did you do something big while you were at school? And why didn't you tell me or James when we started?_

_Hope all's well at home. Give mum my love and please don't Confund Robin next door again, he really does believe I went off to Muggle boarding school._

_Love,_

_Al_

_P.S. Do you know a place my friends from the other houses and me could meet? Everyone looks at me weird in the Great Hall and apart from meals I don't see Nikki at all, she's a second-year._

Leaning back, Albus studied his letter with satisfaction. It was early Saturday morning, he had the best chair by the fire, and James had both detention tonight and two more letters from home than him. He'd promised to meet Scorpius, Helen and Nikki in the Great Hall early, and they were going to spend their first free day together—possibly with Rose or James, if either wanted to come.

Yawning and stretching, Al looked out the window. The sun was just past the horizon, and the sky was gold; James had said he was insane to want to get up early, but there were days it was worth it just for the sunrise. Today promised to be the perfect day—a little windy, but pretty warm for September.

Nikki and maybe Scorpius would already be down in the Great Hall, but Al wasn't really hungry and they weren't expecting him yet anyway; better to visit the Owlery first, provided he could find where it was. Neatly folding the letter into thirds, he scrawled "Dad: Harry Potter" on the front and set off.

Unfortunately, it took him about all of five minutes to get lost again.

"Let's see…" he found himself muttering twelve dozen corridors and at least four floors later. "It's on the west side of the castle somewhere, right? Um…"

"Lost, are you?" said a gargoyle nearby snidely. Al ignored it: as the first-years were quickly learning, the inanimate parts of the castle were generally keen to make trouble. With a little "hmph" it set its glare firmly on him, and he started off down another corridor just to get out of its sight.

There we go—there was a door at the end of this corridor, and it had a strong resemblance to his third floor Charms classroom. That meant—if the staircase was at the same place it was after Charms—it was back that way and to the…

Nope. As Albus dashed down around the corner, he spotted a window at the end of the corridor, counted staircases, and realized he was several floors too high up to be on the third floor. Making an exasperated noise, he turned to go…

A sudden flash of light caught the corner of his eye. Frowning, Al looked over to his left, and with surprise spotted a door he hadn't seen before. Perhaps doors appeared and disappeared, as well as hiding and faking themselves and whatever-else-Hogwarts-doors-did…

Lightly, uncertain what he'd see, Al put a hand on the door and pushed. It swung open silently, revealing another corridor, this one full of doors of every shape and size. In fact, Albus noted with amazement, it went on as long as he could see, and every door was marked with a floor number and some sort of symbol. There were maps plastered in free spots, and for the first time Albus had absolute, concrete guarantee that _nothing_ stayed put in the castle; even as he stopped to study a seventh-floor map, a suit of armor and a staircase moved.

Well, as long as he was here…

Al began walking down along the corridor, studying with fascination the different rooms he took classes in or hadn't known existed: under the heading 1st, he saw crossed wands and a roll of parchment for Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, respectively; 3rd, a trophy for the Trophy Room and a winged key for - he guessed - Charms; 4th, a book for the library; 7th, a gold-tinged lion for the Gryffindor common room (he didn't see any other house rooms and wondered if they were just off in the other direction); and then, finally, under the letter "T" he saw a small owl.

Relieved, Albus pushed the door open and saw a rather shorter staircase than he had expected. He must have been up on a higher floor. He climbed up it, then gave a start—through an open doorway at the end of the stairs, he had seen a flash of bright light.

Bemused, Al raced up the rest of the way. A breeze hit his face the instant he reached the top, and he saw that where your normal tower wall might be was instead several large, open windows; clearly, the owls were free to come and go at will. Ducking his head as an owl on the rafters aimed, Al looked straight across the room, and noticed the last person he would have expected to see in the Owlery at approximately eight a.m. on a Saturday morning.

"Nikki?"

The second-year gave a little start; she had been muttering to herself and shooting mist out of her wand, and hadn't seen him coming. He supposed the mist was what had attracted his attention halfway up the stairs. "Oh, hello, Albus."

"Al," he corrected her—she seemed to have trouble remembering his nickname. "Just Al."

"Of course. What are you doing up here?"

Scanning the heights for his owl, Al absently waved the letter in her direction. With surprising strength, Nikki snatched at his wrist and confiscated the missive; Albus opened his mouth to protest, shook his head, and continued his search.

At length, he managed to locate Pidgey and set to calling her down. With an owl treat and a bit of persuasion, the Snowy consented to landing on his arm, and he turned back to Nikki. She was holding his letter out to him with the impatient air of someone who's been waiting for ages, despite the fact that she'd only taken it moments before. Taking it, Albus began tying it to his owl's leg.

"You're asking your father, then?" the Ravenclaw girl inquired airily.

"Of course I'm asking him! What d'you take me for, a troll?"

"No," Nikki responded, "your brother's relative. I heard he has detention."

Albus grinned. "Yep. Flung frog brains across the room during Potions. Hit Professor Smith in the back of the head." Nikki made a disgusted noise and shook her head, and Al went on, "Anyway, what're you doing up here? I thought you didn't like owls."

"Owls are well and good in their own way, thank you, I just prefer cats. And, for your information, this was the only place I could find to practice my Patronus without being constantly disturbed."

Al had his doubts as to whether the rest of the school was precisely _crowded_ this early in the morning, but kept them to himself. "What's a Patronus?"

Nikki flashed him a _don't-you-know-__**anything**_ look and turned back to her wand. "Repels dementors and their ilk. A shield of happiness, you might say. Each one has their own distinct form—"

"What's yours?"

"What do you take _me_ for," retorted the second-year, "some ancient warlock? I'm only a second-year, I can barely even form the mist yet. Which is why I need to practice…" She was scowling as more mist shot out of her wand between mutters.

"Why practice? It's not as if—"

"Extra credit on my O.W.L.S. when we get to them, and anyway I'm curious to see what mine looks like. Will you _stop_ asking questions?"

Albus opened his mouth, closed it, and turned to leave. Unfortunately, his exit had either moved or disappeared, and he had to locate another one across the room. He glanced back at Nikki, one hand on the door.

"Shall I tell the others you'll be down sometime before lunch?"

"What?" asked Nikki sharply, distracted. "It's breakfast time already? No, no, I'm coming with you! I need some fresh air—"

Holding the door open for her so that he wouldn't have to get them lost, Al decided against asking whether Nikki had spent the entire night up there.

Scorpius was waiting for them when they'd wended their way down to the ground floor (Albus's mysterious quick route having, regretfully, disappeared). Al and Nikki separated for breakfast; Al found Rose, and the two of them headed over to the Hufflepuff table to collect a sleepy Helen. The group then met back up with their Slytherin and Ravenclaw counterparts, and the five of them made their way out onto the grounds.

It was a sunny morning; the sky was a calm, cloudless blue. The air was surprisingly warm for September, but there was a slight breeze. Scorpius stretched his arms back lazily as they walked down past the greenhouses, and, reaching the lake first, lay back on the grass. Al followed suit, lying down on his stomach and propping his head up on his hands; Helen and Rose sat down nearby, and Nikki took out her book under a tree.

"James couldn't come, then?" Scorpius asked idly, watching a bird flutter some hundred feet up.

"Quidditch tryouts," Al replied, "then detention this afternoon. Wouldn't have wanted to anyway, though, his friends are doing something."

"We ought to plan our next prank soon," reflected Scorpius, clearly mulling over something. "It's war now, I mean, a frog brain fight in Potions…"

"You really shouldn't," Rose said reproachfully. "There's really enough trouble around the castle without some kind of full-fledged war for worst prankster." Al choked down a laugh at the idea, and Nikki looked up from her book at the strangled noise.

Scorpius had closed his eyes to take in the warm sun. He now opened them slowly. "You," he said disdainfully to Rose, "are a goody two-shoes. It doesn't suit you. You should be helping us."

Helen giggled, and, encouraged, the Slytherin boy went on, "I mean, honestly. There's only five of us here; we have you, your halfwit cousin—"

"Hey!" protested Albus.

"—myself, a blundering Hufflepuff, and a Ravenclaw girl who lives only for books. In all honesty, I think _you're_ the only girl worth having on the team."

Rose had blushed—it was hard to tell whether she was pleased, embarrassed or angry—but Helen was scowling.

"Blundering Hufflepuff?" she demanded. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Scorpius answered, "you're a klutz with no brains behind it. What do you say, Rose?"

"Hang on!" Helen was turning red. "Did you just call me stupid?"

There was a pause. Scorpius raised an eyebrow.

"No, I called you a brainless klutz."

Nikki was now watching from over the top of her book. Helen had stood up. "That's it! I'm in!"

Al watched openmouthed as Scorpius smiled. "You really think you're good enough to do what I've got in mind?"

"I can do anything! I'll prove it to you! I'll show you _brainless klutz_—"

"Right, then," Nikki cut across, coming over to the rest of them, "you'll need some _real_ brains if you're planning anything big, blondie. Count me in."

"Think you can leave your book for a few hours, do you, Miss Patronus?" But now, as he watched closer, Al realized his friend had been planning this all along. Scorpius had a sly, plotting grin on his face.

"Don't take that tone with me, Malfoy. I think I owe James a little something, he ruined my favorite book last Charms class. Now, what about our Miss Goody Two-Shoes?"

Everyone was looking at Rose. She glared back for a long moment, then slowly bowed under the pressure.

"Fine, then," Hermione's daughter grumbled. "But don't expect me to save your skins if we hit trouble."

Scorpius leapt up, grinning. "Right, then! I won't tell now, I need to work out the details with you, Ashford—"

"Nikki, thank you—"

"—whatever. All we need is some way to communicate, it'll be harder with all four Houses involved…"

"Maylin," Nikki answered immediately, to blank stares. "My cat."

"You can understand cats?" asked Helen blankly.

"No," Nikki replied primly, "she understands humans. Part Kneazle, I think. I'll have her keep an eye out around all the common rooms—don't look at me like that, Malfoy, she can't tell me where they are—and if you need to send a message write it out, stick it under her collar and tell her where to go. Come to think of it, I should have mentioned it earlier. Everyone keeps staring when we go to each other's table at breakfast."

"Not because there's a _Potter_ doing it, surely?" Albus asked waspishly. Nikki shook her head, but it was Helen who volunteered,

"Even when I go to say hi to Scorpius or Nikki, and the teachers watch too. You'd think we were helping each other win the House Cup or something."

"So," said Scorpius impatiently, "that's settled, then. Ashford—"

"Nikki—"

"—stop calling me Malfoy then—we need to chat sometime, just you and me about it, any night is good, I don't know if you ever sleep anyway."

"Owlery at eight-thirty tonight?" Nikki suggested, as all five started walking back toward the castle. "Late enough we won't be spotted, but not so late we'll be strangled if we're spotted out of the common room."

"And if we're caught?" Scorpius asked keenly, studying her.

"We have detention, which will serve as more time to discuss if we're together," shrugged Nikki. Scorpius's grin broadened.

"Words after my own heart. Oi, look—they just let out the Quidditch players."

"What?" Al squinted in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, shading his eyes from the sun, and saw that people were streaming out toward the castle, broomsticks over several shoulders. "Great! C'mon, let's go see if James made the team—and I want to listen in on his detention a bit—"

"There's an idea, maybe we can fix it for him and get him in more trouble—"

The pair raced off to find Al's brother, leaving three exasperated girls in their wake.


	3. Chapter 3: Friends and Flight

**Chapter 3: Friends and Flight**

The Prank was soon discussed at length between all five of Hogwarts's new miscreants; Scorpius was elated, even Nikki was awed, and Maylin seemed to be doing rather a lot of running around the school. It was reluctantly decided that this was a bit of a complicated thing to try pulling off any time soon, and that it would be best done at the first Quidditch match of the season, slightly less than two months in the future. As Nikki said, there was no point in a good prank if it was caught in the first stage. However, Albus and Scorpius were keen for any chance to pull it off otherwise—both had inherited their parents' interest in the outcome of the Quidditch Cup, and both planned to try for Seeker of their respective teams starting their second year.

Further on the subject of Quidditch, the first-years had their first flying lesson the very next Wednesday. Al and Scorpius were delighted to learn that Slytherin and Gryffindor would be learning together, and in no time at all the boys were walking out of the castle toward about twenty-five broomsticks laid out on the ground, heads together in whispered conference. As soon as they spotted the brooms, however, they broke apart and raced for them—no matter that the broomsticks were old and splintery and not half as good as even the kiddie ones each of them had at home, they were brooms and it was time to _fly_.

Al found himself between Scorpius and Rose, who was chatting to a girl from her dormitory. (Rose had taken to pointedly ignoring the boys whenever they came within earshot; Albus guessed she still hadn't gotten over the part they'd assigned her in The Prank.) Glancing down the line, he noticed that they were some of the last to arrive, then, frowning, looked down again. Quite a lot of the Slytherins seemed to be irritated with Scorpius's appearance; almost all of them were glaring at him and one girl even cracked her knuckles. He'd never noticed this animosity before—but, now that he thought of it, he'd rarely seen Scorpius Malfoy in the company of fellow Slytherins. During double classes he generally sat with Albus and Rose, in the midst of Gryffindors, and often as not he found Al in the Great Hall before Al got around to the other table.

An old woman showed up at the end of the line of broomsticks. Albus, who had taken to watching James practice, recognized her as the referee that sometimes came by—that is, Madam Hooch. Last summer Al's father had expressed surprise that she was still teaching, commenting that she'd seemed to be right in the count of teachers who'd retired since his time.

"Right, everyone by a broom!" barked the referee without preamble. A few girls who'd been whispering at the edge of the field hurried to the end of the line. "Now, each of you hold out your right hand like this, and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" shouted the general assembly. Al's broom rolled over a little, then rose up into his hand. He glanced to either side and noticed that Scorpius's had positively snapped up, but Rose's had merely floated a few inches into the air before settling on the grass again.

Madam Hooch went on to explain how to mount a broom and the proper grip for it; Al and Scorpius, who already knew the basics, resumed their quiet conversation.

"—straightaway, the sooner that bit's done the better," whispered Scorpius.

"I know," answered Al fervently under his breath, "but we'll never get Nikki to—"

"Are you listening, boys?"

Both boys' heads snapped upwards. Madam Hooch was watching them with disapproval, but her expression changed slightly as she gave them a cursory glance.

"Not bad," she said gruffly. "Potter, I'm expecting as much out of you as your grandfather, father, and _all_ of the Weasley relatives, you hear me?"

Albus nodded quickly and grinned at Scorpius, but saw with confusion his friend's sullen, resentful expression.

"What's up?"

"Well, she couldn't have mentioned _my_ dad, could she?" the Malfoy asked roughly. "I mean, he was Seeker, and he was pretty good, wasn't he?"

Al was finding it odd that his friend, calculating and careless in most things, could be so touchy about an offhand comment. "Yeah, I dunno. My whole family's big on the game, is all, I guess…most of my uncles played, and Mum and Dad, and my granddad was supposed to be pretty good at it too…and, you know, James made Chaser…"

"Whereas _my_ family's good for nothing but Dark Magic and failure?" retorted Scorpius. "Gee, thanks, Potter."

"I—" Al faltered. "I mean, I didn't…I don't know what you—"

"Just leave him alone, will you?"

Scorpius lifted his head and shot a glare at Rose, who had broken her attention away from the lesson to join the argument. She was glowering fiercely at him.

"It's not Al's fault he looks like his dad!" she hissed angrily. "It's not his fault Uncle Harry did something that made people remember him! And for Merlin's sake, _it's not his fault your family was bad_!"

There was a long, tense silence. Madam Hooch had finished her examination of the brooms and was now giving directions—they were about to take off. Rose watched Scorpius for a moment, then turned back to the lesson.

"What did you just say about my family?" the Malfoy said in a low voice.

"Hey, look, it's time to fly," commented Rose, ignoring the question, even as Madam Hooch shouted,

"On my whistle! One—two—"

The whistle blew, and the two Houses kicked off the ground. Scorpius had an angry, hard look on his face. Rose quickly turned and regained the ground before the rest of the class, but Al, who had risen a few seconds after his friend, watched in consternation as Scorpius leaned lower to the broom—kept rising—

Madam Hooch called, "Come on, boys, down now!" and Scorpius shot off over the forest.

Before he really realized what he was doing, Albus had hurtled after him. Madam Hooch gave a shout and rose up after them, but they had a lead—and either Scorpius had a better broom than Albus or was every bit as good at flying as Al's legendary family, because he was pulling steadily farther ahead…

"Scorpius!" the Gryffindor shouted unhappily. Scorpius gave no sign of having heard. "Come back, Scorpius, no—wait—I didn't mean anything, honest! C'mon, Malfoy, come back—Rose didn't mean it, she didn't—"

"_She didn't mean it_?!"

Madam Hooch forgotten, the Slytherin boy whirled around to face his friend, grey eyes glinting furiously. "What are you talking about, Potter?" he demanded hoarsely, and Albus saw with shock that there were tears on his face. "Of course she meant it, the same way every single student in this—school—You think you're so low on luck, Potter? You don't even know what _happened_ while our parents were at this school, you don't know what your dad _did_—"

"And it's no picnic!" Albus yelled back, angered despite himself. "You think I'm so stupid, why won't you just _tell_ me—"

"_Boys_!" Madam Hooch had caught up and was now circling around them, but it was clear there was little she could do without risking sending them all off their brooms; as they were now a good twenty feet into the air and over the Forbidden Forest, this was a bit of an issue. "Boys, down to the ground, now—"

Scorpius didn't seem to hear her. "You don't even know who you're named after, do you, Potter?" he mocked, shaking, voice choked. "_Albus Severus_—you don't even know who those people are! You don't even know your own dad! If you knew half of what I knew—"

"Why don't you tell me, then!"

There was a pause. Scorpius stared at his friend, then looked away, down at the forest below.

"If you knew half of what I knew," he said more quietly, "you'd hate me so much I couldn't look you in the face."

Fiercely looking away, as if by not seeing them he could hide his moment of weakness, the Malfoy swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Madam Hooch had fallen silent, but now resumed her reprimanding.

"Boys, this is the most undisciplined attitude I've seen on brooms in years and if I have one word to say about it you'll be in detention for a month—get down, now, I mean it—"

"Coming, Madam Hooch," the two chorused automatically, and kept a distance apart as they followed their teacher to the ground. Rose was staring at them openmouthed, and a dark-skinned Gryffindor by name of Jared Thomas whispered, "Nice flying!" to both boys as they went by. Neither one replied. The Quidditch referee marched them straight through the castle down to the Herbology office, told them roughly to wait, and bustled off to find the head of Gryffindor house. It wasn't until after the footsteps had long faded that Al dared sneak a glance at his friend.

"Hey…" he said tentatively. "Nikki would be, um, pretty disappointed if we quit the prank now."

There was a bitter twist to Scorpius's old grin, but it was there. "Yeah, well, you better hope your dad writes back soon, Potter."

To tell the truth, Albus had almost completely forgotten his father's letter in the rush of events. Now, though, he was wondering what was taking so long—whenever James wrote home, he got a response by the next day. It plagued him all through his detention Wednesday night—without Scorpius; he helped prune old student brooms with Madam Hooch—and by the time he got to bed he had gone over the worries that his father was angry with the missive, his owl had gotten lost, or his house had suddenly blown up and his family was dead. Worse, he was finding them all quite likely, and it was with intense anxiety that he waited for the owl post Thursday morning.

"Look!" exclaimed Rose as the owls flew in, and Albus gave a yelp, choking on his orange juice. Sure enough, Pidgey marked a white speck in the mass of brown and grey, and she swooped down to land between his plate and the butter dish, a letter in her beak.

"Thanks," Al muttered and shoved his mostly-empty plate in her direction; the owl gulped down the bacon rinds and orange peel, nipped his finger lightly, and took flight, soaring out of the room.

"Open it!" Rose urged, leaning over his shoulder. The words "Albus Potter" were marked in his father's writing. Al was sorely tempted, but shook his head, chewing a lip.

"You've got classes with Helen today, right?" Rose nodded. "Well, tell her to meet us up in the library during lunch break. Scor—I mean, they'll all want to hear too."

Rose looked down at her plate, fidgeting with her fork. "Right. And Nikki?"

"She'd probably be up there anyway," Al remarked wryly, "but I'll catch her before class."

So, a bit after twelve that afternoon, the five friends claimed a table in the library. Rose and Scorpius were sitting at opposite ends of the table, and did not so much as look at each other. Helen, who of course had not been present during flying class, was at a complete loss and looked to Al for directions. He just shrugged and pulled out the letter.

"Give it here," said Nikki next to him immediately, snatching it out of his hand. Before he could say a word, she was scanning it eagerly without speaking, Scorpius peering over her shoulder. After about ten seconds she let out a squeak, dropped it on the table, and raced out of the library without a word of explanation.

The four remaining students stared as they heard loud giggles coming from outside of the door. Scorpius squinted at Nikki's back, shrugged, and passed the letter back to Al.

"Must be an insane historian thing. Just read it, mate, I'm dying of curiosity."

With a last shake of his head, Albus took the letter, held it up, and began to read.

"'_Dear Al,_

"'_Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Mum and I were away from home this weekend, and I don't think it occurred to Pidgey to come find us. Don't worry, he'll get better with a little training—give him to Hagrid for a bit._

"'_It's nice to hear things are going well for you. Home is fine. Lily is complaining loudly that she's too old for Muggle stuff now that she's the only one at home. I just told her to be glad no one's tried to send her a toilet seat—but don't tell James, or he might actually do it!_

"'_As for a place to go with your friends, you could always use the library or an empty classroom, although I know they're not ideal. If you're really having trouble, I have something to go for, but I'm not sure whether the room still works after we had a fiasco in it my seventh year. It's called the Room of Requirement, and it's on the seventh floor. The corridor has an enormous vase at one end…_'"

Albus trailed off distantly, not really noticing his friends' stares. "_'…an enormous vase at one end, and a window at the other. The room itself is across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. You need to walk past it three times thinking about what you need…'_ I've been there before!"

The others' gazes sharpened. "What do you mean?" asked Rose.

"Well, see, I got lost on the way to the Owlery the other morning—and there was this door that appeared—I must've gone past it—that'd be great! D'you think it would work for us?"

"Dunno," answered Scorpius impatiently, "we can ask Nikki when she's over her laughing fit. What else does the letter say?"

"Right." Al looked back down at the letter and continued reading. "_'I remember James mentioning last year how people stared at him. Don't worry, it wears off. I guess you could say I played the hero a lot when I was your age—always racing in, trying to save the day. I'm sure you remember me talking about the Triwizard Tournament and the defense group your aunt and uncle and I made up in our fifth year. Don't let it worry you, it has nothing to do with you and they'll forget as soon as something big happens. Love, Dad.'_"

"That's all?" Scorpius asked, clearly disappointed. "He doesn't say anything else?"

"There's a postscript," interrupted Nikki eagerly as she came back to the table. "Read the postscript."

"What? Oh, right—" Slightly confused, Al read the line he'd almost missed.

"'_P.S. You said your friend in Hufflepuff is named Helen Dursley. I doubt she's the person I think she might be, but could you ask her about her father for me?'"_

"I knew it!" Nikki's voice was a strangled shout, and she quickly bent her head and lowered her voice as the librarian came near, eyes narrowed. "I _knew_ I knew your name from somewhere!" Helen looked rather frightened.

"And?" asked Scorpius impatiently.

"_You_," she pointed at Al, "are related to _her_!"

"I…what?" echoed the Gryffindor, flabbergasted.

"You're cousins! Well, third or fourth cousins or something—but still! See, your father had a Muggle cousin named Dursley, and he got married and _obviously_ magic runs awfully strong there for a Muggle family so—"

"Are you sure?" Helen asked a bit faintly. "You—er—know what you're talking about, like?"

"What was your father's first name?" Nikki demanded excitedly. "Where does he work?"

"Erm…Dudley, he's in some business that makes drills."

"I _knew_ it!" the second-year yelped loudly, caught the librarian's murderous eye, and raced out.

Once again, the four first-years were left staring.

"I'll mail Dad back," said Albus awkwardly, "to, er, make sure."

* * *

**A/N :** There you have it, the first three chapters. Hopefully I'll be updating weekly from here on in. 


	4. Chapter 4: Discovery

**Chapter Four: Discovery**

"Now, for homework…"

Al looked up as he caught the word, and several students seemed to come to themselves. The word "homework" was generally one disliked by any and all children, but in this case it meant Professor Binns's class was finally drawing to a close.

It was odd how the last two months had seemed to slide away, a rush of classes and events and letters and gossip, when _this_ particular class lasted an eternity; already it was October 26th, with Halloween just a few days away and the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match a week after that. A flurry of letters had been exchanged between Albus and his father, confirming that Helen was indeed a distant relative. Al's father had been positively delighted, and bombarded his letters with questions of, "So how's Dudley doing these days?", "Who on _earth_ married him?" and, "_What_ did her grandparents think when they found out she were going to Hogwarts?" It wasn't until Al threatened to break into Gringotts, steal his father's money, and buy an owl for the sole purpose of Dursley-related questions that the flood finally stopped.

Meanwhile, the five friends had been delighted to find that the Room of Requirement did indeed still work. Unfortunately, they couldn't seem to get into it if the library was open, but they now had a place to go all hours—and even better, they had discovered a new form of communication that beat Nikki's cat by a long shot.

It was on their first successful attempt into the room Al had inadvertently discovered. All of them wandered around the comfortable room, studying this and that—Nikki immediately found a book labeled "_99 Plotting Tips_" and settled herself down in a corner—but it was Helen who spotted the Galleons first. Nikki proclaimed with delight that they looked like the ones she'd heard of (conveniently forgetting where when Albus demanded what she was talking about) and that they _must_ have a Protean Charm on them; she had immediately confiscated all six and spent the next week testing them out. Now the five students were using them to alert each other when they needed to get together. Around the edge of the coin were numbers they used to let each other know when they could manage it; first four for the time, next four for the date, and the last one was either a one or a two, indicating whether they should go to the Room of Requirement or the Owlery. With this bit of convenience, Prank plannings were going much faster.

Al had been dwelling on the Prank all through class. All of them had been getting nervous as the assigned date drew nearer, and even though everything but the finest bits had been worked out by this point it felt like absolutely everything was going to go wrong. Now, however, he forced himself to pay some measure of attention to the world around him, as Rose scribbled the assignment down in her homework planner.

"For homework, one foot on Grindelwald's defeat in 1945 and how he impacted the Wizarding world. Due Wednesday. Class dismissed."

Al shoved his book back into his bag and headed for the exit, Rose following. His cousin was frowning thoughtfully.

"What's up, Rosie?"

"What? Oh, nothing really." The Weasley girl had forgotten to put her quill away, and was turning it absently in her fingers as they walked. "I was just thinking…"

"Yes, what about?" her cousin prodded, curious.

"Well, they really ought to get us new textbooks now we're looking at the twentieth century, don't you think? I mean, this is the third time we've had to research like this for our—_why_ are you looking at me like that?" Albus had given her a blank stare. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you've forgotten already—"

"He's forgotten already," parroted a voice behind the two. Scorpius ducked between the two Gryffindors, bag swinging on one arm, and grinned. "Go on, Rosie. I'm listening."

"My name," the girl said with cold dignity, "is Rose. _Not_ Rosie. I'll see you at Hagrid's, Al."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and flounced off, head held high. The boys gaped after her. After a moment Al managed, "She really hates you, mate."

Scorpius snorted. "You kidding me? I've seen the look she gives me. It's not hate, Al, it's secret love."

Al gave his friend a sideways look, not sure if Scorpius was joking, but Scorpius barreled on before he could ask. "So you're going to Hagrid's this afternoon? Why didn't you _tell_ me? We need to talk to him if we want to pull off—"

"And _that's_ why I didn't tell you," retorted Al, irritated, "I still don't agree about that part. I mean, don't you think acromantulas are a bit much? They _eat_—"

"But that's the fun of it, see! 'Sides, I'm not looking for acromantulas, just big spiders that _look_ like them—"

"And I'm telling you, they don't exist—"

"He just needs to tell us more about them, Nikki knows how to do an Engorgement Charm so we can use normal spiders, but it won't be any good if it's obviously fake—"

"Scorp, most of this is all right but if they so much as get a _sniff_ of us at _this_—"

The pair argued in low voices all the way down the corridor, then split up to drop off their bags. Scorpius managed to persuade Albus, doubtfully, to let him come along to Hagrid's hut. Five minutes later, they arrived slightly breathless at the door — from Hagrid's voice rumbling within and the returning words, either old Fang had learned to speak or Rose had preceded them.

"She's not going to be happy," Al whispered as he raised his hand to rap on the door. Scorpius just grinned.

Hagrid flung the door open at the first knock. "Al! Great ter see ya, yer cousin's already—"

It was then that he spotted Scorpius, did a double take, and opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. At length the gamekeeper managed, "Gallopin' gargoyles, Al, your father know who yer makin' friends with?"

Scorpius had been grinning still. He tilted his head and studied the half-giant, smile fading just a little, then cleared his throat. Al's ears were red and he knew it.

"'Course he does, I told him and he's fine with it," the Potter boy said, a little defensively. There was an awkward pause, in which Hagrid continued to stare in puzzlement. "Er—can we come in?"

"Oh—righ'," Hagrid said quickly, stepping aside so the two boys could get through the door. The hut was cheerful and oversized as ever; there were three mugs set out at the table, and between the hastily-pushed-aside chair and some knitting that vaguely resembled a tent Al gathered that Hagrid had been sitting across from Rose when they'd knocked.

Said girl was, unfortunately, still sitting there; she had fastened them with the most venomous glare known to humankind.

"_What_ is _he_ doing here?" she demanded rather tactlessly of Hagrid, indicating Scorpius. The gamekeeper shrugged, clearly bewildered by the turn of events — well, truth be told Al hadn't seen so much of him since school began. He wouldn't have known.

"Sitting," retorted Scorpius insolently, filling one of the empty seats and taking the only unfilled mug. Hagrid blinked and hurriedly fumbled for a fourth mug in the cupboard; Rose's narrowed eyes turned onto Albus as if this was all _his_ fault.

Well, in a way it was.

With a quiet "thanks" Al took the tea Hagrid offered and sat down in an empty chair; Hagrid followed suit. There was an awkward pause.

"So, Hagrid," Al said with a brave attempt at cheerfulness, "how's it going?"

"A'right," the gamekeeper mumbled. "Somethin's been a' the bowtruckles, bu' I cleaned 'em up. An'…er…" He cast a glance at Scorpius. "Yeah."

"Fascinating," Scorpius interjected eagerly. "It sounds great, being gamekeeper…knowing so much about the different stuff in the Forest."

"Oh, er, well…" Hagrid was clearly thrown off by the flattering politeness, where the Malfoy's predecessor would have given a cruel barb. "Guess yeh could say that. Lots of stuff in the Forest, yeah. Centaurs an' unicorns an'…an' bowtruckles."

"Must be hard," Scorpius pressed. "A dangerous job. Not something you'd trust to just anyone." He was carefully avoiding Rose's eyes - she was giving him a narrow-eyed, suspicious look.

Despite himself, the gamekeeper puffed up a little in pride. "Yeah, got the job from Dumbledore way back when…bu' Minerva trusts me, Professor McGonagall tha' is. An' I'm still teaching, too."

"I heard there's all sorts of cool stuff in the forest," Scorpius went on. "Thestrals, like, and—oh, I dunno. Is it true there's acromantulas?"

Rose stifled a gasp, dropping her jaw as she caught on to the game. "You _little_—" she hissed, but Hagrid didn't seem to hear.

"Yeah," he said distractedly, "yeah, used ter be acromantulas. Brought 'em in there, 's no secret. But, er…'s been a while since I was in there."

Something about the way he said it caught Al's attention. He glanced at Scorpius, who didn't notice his gaze, then at Rose, who was frowning too. His words cut across Scorpius's.

"Just out of curiosity—"

"How come you haven't been in the forest?"

"Wha'?" Startled, rather as though he'd forgotten they was there, Hagrid looked back at the Gryffindors. "Oh, 's nothin' really…jus' havin' a bit o' trouble with the centaurs is all…dunno why really," he added honestly, "bin a long time since I did anythin' to make them mad. They've been real secretive lately."

He shrugged, but it looked to Albus that he was just trying to put them at ease when he said, "Sure it'll blow over soon. Jus' can't get at the Forest till it does, is all. Don' worry about it."

Well, Albus decided as Scorpius wheedled out his bit about acromantulas, the three of them thanked Hagrid, and they trudged back up toward the castle, whatever it was that was wrong, he was glad he didn't take Care of Magical Creatures. Angry centaurs, honestly…

—

It was early Tuesday evening when Al remembered his History of Magic essay.

He had just finished a rather painfully extensive paper on locomotion spells for Charms class, courtesy of a certain _issue_ with the feathers he and Scorpius were supposed to be floating around; as with most of his classes, he'd been aided by Nikki's knowledge of _exactly_ what book to find information in and Rose's grudging checks of the finished essays. Now, running through his subjects on the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Al choked, turned around, and raced back to the library, praying that Nikki would still be there.

She was. The Ravenclaw girl was wearing an odd, veiled smile as she thumbed to the copyright page of a book on her table, and didn't glance up as her friend raced back in.

"Nikki—" Al panted, "I forgot—my History of Magic essay—about Grindelwald. It's due tomorrow. Can you help?"

"Grindelwald?" There was a strange tone to the second-year's voice as she carefully closed her book—satisfied, almost—and she still didn't look Al's way. "Sure. This book should work, actually, better than the one I recommended Rose. It's more recent." She passed it in his direction, and Al took it feverishly, poring through the contents.

"Relax, will you?" she added. "It's only seven o'clock. I'm sure not everyone has left the Great Hall yet, even. Try page two forty-four; I'm going to go find something for my Herbology class…"

Al found the indicated page and began skimming as Nikki wandered through the shelves, picked out a book entitled _Shrivelfigs: Grow a Plant to Shrink a Foe_ and returned to her seat.

As he jotted down some quick notes, Al felt eyes on him. He glanced to the side and saw that Nikki was watching him intently. "Yes?" he asked, irritated.

She shrugged and turned back to her book wordlessly. Muttering something under his breath about insane bookworms, Al looked back to the book, trying to find his place again—and an odd phrase caught his eye.

_Grindelwald's reign has often been compared to that of "You-Know-Who's" in more recent years. His defeat was no less spectacular, and it has often been mentioned that Albus Dumbledore was, in fact, a mentor to Harry Potter in his youth. However, it might be noted that there is no record that Grindelwald and "You-Know-Who" ever met…_

Albus Potter's heart did a funny little jump, and he reread the passage, mouth silently shaping the words. 'You-Know-Who.' 'Albus Dumbledore.' And, with a strange leap of his stomach, '_Harry Potter_…'

"Nikki," he asked slowly, "_who_ was You-Know-Who?"

* * *

**A/N:** haha, cliffhanger. Unfortunately, you might have to wait longer for the next chapter than a week...visiting family, and I don't think I'll be getting on the computer for a while. Maybe I'll be nice and try to finish the next chapter this afternoon. 


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